


Hadrian Riddle

by AutumnalMagic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Assassination, Blood Adoption (Harry Potter), Death Eaters, Dementors, Duel Wand Wielding, Giants, Hags, Morally Grey Harry Potter, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Pagan Pure Bloods, Tom Riddle | Voldemort Adopts Harry Potter, Vampires, Voldemort Raises Harry Potter, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26130592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnalMagic/pseuds/AutumnalMagic
Summary: The Dark Lord hears of a prophesied child. The whole prophesy. Fates change that evening of Samhain. Harry is stolen away by Pettigrew, adopted by Voldemort and raised as an assassin. Years of vigorous training by Death Eaters and dark creatures alike gets him ready to take out the Order of the Phoenix, one by one.
Relationships: Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter & Voldemort, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 106





	1. Abduction

The wind blew autumn leaves onto quaint walkways in Godric’s Hollow. The air had turned crisp and the fall decorations were visible all along the quiet street. Carved jack-o-lanterns flickered in the setting sun. The night of Samhain had begun.

While muggle children went trick-or-treating, the wizarding residents prepared for the night the veil would be thin. Candle lights flickered in their windows, sigils carved into the black wax. Families gathered together to break bread and perform their own family traditions. Many residents of the area were pure blooded with ancient practices handed down in the family grimoires kept safe in the vaults at Gringotts.

In the home of the fidelius charm protected family of the Potters, a small festive gathering was happening in secret. The smell of baked pumpkin filled the air along with candied apples. The giggles of their son kept the dark atmosphere at bay. 

Harry Potter was born a happy child. James and Lily were so proud. Almost as proud as Sirius Black, one of the godfathers to the bouncing baby boy flying along on his toy broomstick while stuck to the seat by a sticking charm. Remus of course was another of the godfathers, though he would never be seen as such in the eyes of the law with his furry little problem. Peter, while not a godfather, was ever present at the home with his childhood friends. 

The table was set with small pumpkins, flickering candles, plates of food and mulled wine made by Lily with the help of Peter. The family of six broke bread together and enjoyed each others company. An empty chair and place setting was laid out for James and Lily’s deceased parents, all killed by Voldemort’s forces to try and get to them. Their memory was be honored tonight.

After the meal was consumed, they each took turns enticing Harry with bits of mashed potato and other goodies. Of course, Harry would only eat from Sirius’ fork.

“I’m his favorite! Take that James. Your own son prefers me,” Sirius gloated.

“He only likes you because you spoil him rotten. You never force him through a diaper change or anything unpleasant,” James replied, a playful scowl crossing his face.

“Of course not, I leave that to the likes of proper parents like you two! I still don’t understand why you don’t just have a house elf just do it. They love to! Trust me.”

“Lily insists it’s a good way to bond with him. Makes us spend more time with him and learn responsibility or something. Besides, you know Dumbledore. The fewer who know about this place the better. All the house elves were left at the manor.”

Remus chuckled. “You, responsible. I guess it is working a bit then. You’re shaping up to be a proper general. Death Eaters usually think twice once you show up to a fray nowadays.”

A darkness fell over Lily’s face. “Please, let’s not talk about the war. Just for tonight.”

“Sorry Lily,” said Remus. “Of course.”

Once the food was cleared, they each took a fate stone and carved their names into them, Lily writing Harry’s for him with her willow wand, and threw them into the fire to be retrieved in the morning and interpreted for the new year. As the evening wore on, one by one they said their goodbyes until it was just the Potters and Peter left. 

“I’ll go put Harry to bed,” said Lily, cuddling a drooling boy with drooping eyelids over his stunning green eyes. His hair was plastered to the side of his face from being cuddled to her for the past hour.

As she went up the stairs Peter quietly drew his wand and stunned James. As James fell Peter caught him mid faceplant with a levitation spell and placed him on a couch securely, bound hand and foot. Taking no chances, he snapped the mahogany wand in two, the spiderweb designs carved into it splintering. The pieces were still connected by their dragon heart string core, but unusable.

A silencing charm on Peter’s feet and he was up the stairs, down the hall and entering the nursery. Lily was reading from The Tales of Beetle the Bard to a gently dozing Harry. A flick of Peter’s wand and she was hit by a red stunner.

Only it dissipated around a shield barrier, her necklace glowing from it’s wards being activated.

Her eyes snapped up, terror in them as she looked to see her attacker.

“Peter? What?”

But Peter had already crossed the room and had his hands around her neck. “He needs him Lily. I need him.”

Screaming for James, she threaded her arms between his to break his grasp but his hand caught her necklace tearing it from her throat. Her backup defences now gone she dove for her wand on the nightstand next to the chair she was wheezing in, but was hit by another stunner before she could aim properly. She slumped, motionless.

Peter bound her like her husband and cautiously approached the crib.

“Hello Harry. I’m sorry, but I promised the Dark Lord I would bring you to him. I don’t know what your life is going to be like or if you are even going to have one, but it’s you or me.” He put a gentle sleeping charm on the one year old and lifted Harry from his crib, the blanket catching on the quidditch mobile spinning above it.

Out the door he walked, across the hall, down the stairs, through the living room and out the front door he carried his precious cargo. Once outside the wards they both disappeared with a pop.

In the grate of the fire, Harry’s fate stone cracked.


	2. Adoption

“You have done well Wormtail. You have earned a reward,” Voldemort said as he took the swaddled Harry into his arms and leaned back into his throne like chair at Riddle Manor.

“Oh, thank you Master. How gracious of you,” murmured Peter, bowing low to his Lord. 

“Hold out your arm.”

Peter stilled. “Arm, my Lord?”

“Yes, you snivelling servant, your left arm. You have completed your task so now I will gift you with the Dark Mark.”

“But-”

“You dare deny my gift? One that others have killed to receive?” Voldemort’s dark eyes flashed red. He knew what thoughts were going through Pettigrew’s mind. He could read them even without the use of legilimency. He would no longer be able to blend into normal society as easily once marked.

Hesitantly Peter rolled up his sleeve exposing his lightly tanned, unblemished forearm.

Raising his yew wand, Lord Voldemort pressed the tip deep into the skin and hissed. “Alligatusss esss ad me, corporisss, animi, ac animusss magicae. Sssic autem videsss festucam in colubrum.” _You are bound to me, body, mind, soul and magic. So mote the serpent be._

Tears fell from Pettigrew’s eyes as the mark dug into his flesh and linked itself to his magic, soul and life. He would never be free again. Pitifully the man crawled back from his lord and into the ranks of the inner circle, the only ones Voldemort trusted to be here for what was about to happen.

I need an unbreakable vow from each of you that what will be discussed tonight will never pass you lips or be alluded to by any means without my express permission to anyone not in this room right now.

Murmurs fluttered around the half circle, but bold Bellatrix strode forward and prostrated herself at his feet. “Let me go first, My Lord.”

One by one they exchanged vows: Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape, Barty Crouch Junior, Evan Rosier, Igor Karkaroff, Walden Macnair, Regulus Black, Peter Pettigrew, Avery, Knott and Goyle.

“Severus, come forward.”

With grace, the young man glided to the throne and kneeled, his hair hiding his facial features. Nagini slithered toward him, encircling him in her coils.

“Luck is on our side. Young Severus overheard a prophecy, one which shall not be repeated, but know that by my adopting his young boy, it is thwarted.”

“Who is the child My Lord?” asked Karkaroff.

“You do not need to know who he was in birth, but who he is to become. Severus, prepare the adoption ritual.”

“Yes, My Lord.” He carefully stepped out of the coils of the large snake to go to the back table and bring forward the prepared supplies. Potions were not to be summoned if avoidable.

Wordlessly Voldemort conjured a small table for Severus to place the bowl, dagger, potion bottle, parchment and quill on. He then released the sleeping spell from the child. Harry yawned and opened his large green eyes. Severus stilled and stared into them but said nothing.

“Tonight, I am to take up my original guise once again. While as Lord Voldemort I can lead armies, as politician Tom Riddle I can move in broad daylight. And with a son accompanying me those who do not now better will let their guards down.” Swishing his wand over himself, the snake like features that terrorized the nightmares of so many melted away to show the classically handsome wizard who seemed frozen in time at the age of twenty-five.

“My Lord!” exclaimed the inner circle, all genuflecting, not daring to look into his dark eyes rimmed in red.

“At ease my trusted colleagues, for this is my true appearance. I shall wear it in the day with young Hadrian here. You will all help me to raise up and train him to be the sharpest tool in my arsenal. Now Severus, let us begin.”

“As you wish, My Lord.” With the slightest of shakes, Severus help out the dagger to Voldemort, no Tom, who slit his palm open, dripping the blood of Salazar that flowed through his veins into the waiting bowl. It flowed fast as the edge of the blade was enchanted and made healing slow. It was no hindrance to a wizard of Voldemort’s power though, as with a flex of his hand it healed.

Severus opened the small potion bottle, mixing it with the proffered blood and dipping the sterile quill into the mixture, placing it point up on the parchment. It quivered there waiting to write as if ready to spill the secrets of the world.

“Do you, Tom Marvolo Riddle take this child to be your own. To care and provide for, for as long as they live?” asked Severus.

“Yes,” intoned Voldemort.

“What name shall he be known as?”

“Hadrian Salazar Riddle.”

“So mote it be.”

“So mote it be.”

Voldemort raised the bowl and dripped it slowly into the child’s mouth until it had all been consumed. Hadrian raised a fuss, but was not allowed to have his way. The quill zoomed across the parchment, inking out a newly revised family tree and a list of family magics possessed by the newly minted Hadrian. The quill slowed after a few minutes and the audience held their breath. By the looks of the grin spreading across the handsome face of Tom they new their fates were sealed and the world had shifted.


	3. The Formative Years

The parchment was rolled up by Tom, never to be scene by anyone else.

Hadiran Salazar Riddle

Parents: Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lily Jane Evans, James Charlus Potter

Heir to the Noble and Ancient Houses: Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ignotus Peverell, Gaunt, Potter and Fleamont.

Second in Line to the Noble and Ancient House of Black.

Family Magics: Parselmagic, Parseltongue, Legilimency, Occlumency.

When Hadrian came into the Riddle household the first thing Voldemort, now living in his form as Tom Riddle while around him, did (besides assigning house elf nannies) was to find suitable teachers who had sworn allegiance and were brilliant in their own right. At first, there was not much that could be taught a one year old, but Tom was determined to hone this new weapon to be the most agile, quick thinking dagger he would ever need. That need to start with languages.

Unlike when he himself had grown up in an orphanage, he would afford Hadrian the best education, starting with Latin, Parseltongue and English. While parseltongue was mostly automatic to a speaker when talking to a snake directly, it could not hurt to make it second nature to the boy even when snakes were not present. His parselmagic would depend on it. Also, Latin for spell crafting and understanding the general effects of what was being cast at you would be invaluable.

The male mate of the leader of the vampire coven sworn to follow Voldemort silently approached the raised chair. His long dark hair fell to his waist and his robes billowed behind him as his silence filled the room with anticipation. Vesper Exstasis had never talked with the dark wizard one on one before, his husband Mordere had been the only vampire with that honor so far.

Upon reaching the dais, the Vampire Lord bowed but did not take a knee. The undead may ally with mortals, but they did not go so low as to treat them as higher than themselves. “You wished to see me? How may I be of service?” He raised his eyes to meet red ones.

Voldemort, once again in his parselmagic guise, gave a small smile. Vesper never stood a chance against the subtle assault of Voldemort’s mind as it trickled in like water, seeping into the cracks looking for loyalties and subterfuge. He could not trust the training of his weapon to anyone.

“You are loyal to Mordere first,” Voldemort said.

“Yes Lord Voldemort. As per our wedding vows exchanged many centuries ago. Nothing can change that.”

“Interesting, you have wanted a child for many years now but have never been in agreement.”

A subtle hint of shock echoed through the undead mind. “Yes, Lord Voldemort.”

“If you had the opportunity to help raise and train up a child would you be loyal to that child and their family?” probed Voldemort.

“If the family was not in opposition to Mordere, yes.”

“What if it was my child?”

Vesper stopped his habitual breathing. It was not necessary for vampires to breath, but it was a habit he kept up to help blend into crowds. “Yours? You would trust a vampire to help with your offspring?”

“Only if you make certain oaths to ensure he will not be turned into a vampire himself, and to keep the knowledge that he is Voldemort’s son a secret.”

Visions of spending time with a child sprang through Vesper’s mind. Caring for them, teaching them the wonders of hand to hand combat, languages of the world, how to move silently, and the affection between them and pride at watching them succeed. Even if they did look particularly snake like he could overlook it. “Of course. Yes.”

A grin spread across Voldemort’s face. He had him right where he wanted him. They exchanged unbreakable vows that Vesper would keep Voldemort’s secrets and terms, and the Voldemort would not harm Mordere in return even if he failed at a task.

“What is the child’s name?”

“Hadrian.”

So the language training began through immersion until Hadrian was three years old and could hold basic conversations in four languages. Parseltongue with Tom, and English, Latin and Mandarin with Vesper Exstasis. After that, basic dueling footwork was added to the small child’s training.

By the time he was four, hand to hand combat was introduced by Vesper on Voldemort’s request. Tiny hands balled into fists to punch at targets, he kicked at specified objects and was taught discipline. If he ever lashed out, Vesper would step in and console the child, trying to understand what was going on in his mind. The only affection he received aside from the house elves.

“Lucius,” called out Voldemort after an inner circle meeting. “Come here a while.”

Lucius bowed low. “Yes, my Lord?”

“I have need of your services.”

“Of course! How can I be of help?” Lucian asked, thinking of the war front. Giants had been recruited and now Fenrir was in talks to join as well with his pack of werewolves.

“My son has need of proper pure blood etiquette training. He is now five and in need of proper manners. Have you already started training your son?” Voldemort enquired.

“Yes, my Lord. Just this year.”

“You shall make an excellent teacher for Hadrian. He is to know everything. Train him as if your life depended on it.” Voldemort gave Lucius a cold stare and saw a shiver rack the pure blood’s spine.

“Yes, my Lord. Just tell me when and where.”

Lucius found the five-year-old Hadrian to be very different from his own son Draco. His hair was dark with light waves, his eyes a vibrant green with red riming the pupils. A very unique gaze. He moved like a fighter, clenching and unclenching his fists, keeping a look out for possible attacks. Strange for a boy so young, but who was Lucius to judge the Dark Lord’s parenting techniques?

“Hello Hadrian. I am Mr. Malfoy. I’m to teach you proper pure blood etiquette.”

“Hello Mr. Malfoy, I’m Hadrian. Nice to meet you,” the small, thin child said.

“Very good Master Riddle. I think we will be great relationship.”

Over the next year Hadrian’s walk became more of a glide, his dueling footwork became mixed with dance footwork. He ate like a civilized person and could recite the riddle family tree for five generations. He could draw the family crest and animate it with a word of parseltongue, much to Mr. Malfoy’s amazement.

Bellatrix was also brought in part time to teach wand movement. Her brain was addled with blood lust so Vesper kept a close eye on those lessons, much to her annoyance. Hadrian was gifted with a training wand that had no core. It was incorporated into his dueling practice as well as his footwork. He could weave and dodge while throwing fake curses back at his opponents.

A six-year-old Hadrian found himself sat down on the couch with Tom.

“Hadrian, there are some things I need to teach you. Some basic parselmagic and occlumency.” Tom said, looking like his true self. He had not shown his Voldemort appearance yet to the child as Hadrian would be unable to shield his knowledge of the duel appearances without occlumency.

“What are those father?” the trusting boy asked, looking into the angled face of the one who gave him some wonderful and one scary teacher.

“I will teach you how to change your appearance using family magic handed down from Salazar Slytherin himself. But before that I must teach you how to shield your mind from mental attacks by others.”

“What’s a mental attack?”

Tom’s eyes flashed as he dove straight into young Hadrian’s mind making sure it hurt. He found memories of Vesper showing kindness and twisted them into fear inducing nightmares.

Hadrian screamed and fell forward on the couch, clutching at his temples, fists in his dark hair. “Make it stop! Make it stop!”

With a blink, Tom halted the attack. “That, my child is legilimency. And our enemies can use it too. We must make you safe from those types of attacks in the future. The training will be hard and will hurt, but it will save you from greater harm. Do you trust me?”

“Of course father.” Tears slid down Hadrian’s face but he knew his father just wanted what was best for him.


	4. Yule Gala

Hadrian smoothed his hands over his dress robes, black with green accents. He was growing but still not tall for his age. At seven years old he was about to have his first public appearance with his father.

Trixy popped into the room. “Master Hadrian, sir. Are yous ready for the gala, sir?” Her large brown eyes and floppy ears endeared her to him.

“Yes Trixy. I think so.” He patted his shoulder length, wavy black hair into place once more just to be sure. He spun for her. “How do I look? Okay?”

“Very fine Master Hadrian.”

“Do you thing father will approve?” he asked.

“Of course sir! He picked out your dress robes himself!” Her squeaky voice trying to reassure.

“I mean, will he approve of me? What if I mess up tonight? I’ve never met anyone who wasn’t trusted by Father. What if I tarnish his name? What if I can’t speak coherently?”

“It’s good that you are taking this so seriously,” came the cool reply from the doorway.

Automatically, Hadrian bowed to his father before straightening up and taking in his appearance. His hair came to his shoulders as well, perfectly framing his high cheekbones. His eyes were glimmering as he took in his son.

“You will do well tonight, Hadrian.” He sat on the edge of the bed and patted for him to join him.

Carefully Hadrian complied, trying not to wrinkle his new robes.

“I have a special mission for you tonight.” He held Hadrian’s face in a manicured hand. “You are to talk to the other children at this gala. Find out what side their parents are on. Which ones are scared, which ones are planning to go on holiday abroad, anything that could be useful. Do you understand?”

“Yes Father.” Hadrian bit his lip.

Tom ran his thumb over it, pulling Hadrian’s lip out from between the teeth. “Don’t bite your lip. It’s a sign of weakness.”

“Yes father.” He looked down in shame at the slight reprimand but was glad it did not go any farther. When he showed real weakness, legilimency was the favorite correctional tool.

“Keep your occlumency shields in place the entire gala. I will be testing them from time to time make sure.”

Hadrian nodded.

“I will put galmors on you until we reach the manor and apparate from there.”

The yew wand swished over the top of his head and Hadrian felt a cooling sensation drip down his form. He looked at his arms. They looked normal to him, but he knew he would look different to others.

“Come with me.” Tom rose and his robes fell around him like a waterfall of silk and satin. He glided out of the room, his magic curling around him, distorting his aristocratic features.

Hadrian ran after him as dignified as he could. His shorter legs taking up a quick step hint from his dance lessons to lengthen their stride. They both left the wards of the base, feeling the embrace of magic sooth their skin as they walked through. Tom offered his arm to Hadrian who reached up to grab it and together they apparated to Riddle Manor.

Hadrian dry heaved as soon as they landed.

“Apparation can be uncomfortable to get used to, but you have to. It is too useful a tool to not be used from slight discomfort.” Tom looked down at his son, unstoppered a stomach soothing potion and handed it to him. “Take this and we will apparate to the gala.”

Nodding, Hadrian took the proffered bottle and downed it. He immediately felt better. It must have been one of Mr. Snape’s potions to work so well and so fast.

Tom dissolved the glamors on himself and his son. “Hang on again, Hadrian, before the maximum effect of the potion wears off.”

They disappeared with a silent pop.

Together they strode into the grand entrance hall of Malfoy Manor. The decor was breathtaking to Hadrian. There were yule decorations everywhere. Glistening fir trees were decked with unmelting snow, lights and sun symbols, berries, pinecones and fruits. Pine bows with flickering candles lined the walls by the ceiling dangling holly and ivy. Winter fairies glinted and flew by creating frost patterns on baubles. A large oak log burned in a huge fire place, large enough for five grownups to stand in.

“Ah, Mr. Riddle. Welcome to our home.” Lucius bowed and gave an air of only being acquaintances with the pair.

“Thank you for the invitation, we are honored to attend.” Tom’s red eyes roved over the waltzing couples and his magic shot out in seeking tendrils though the room, recognizing all in attendance from their magical signatures. No Dumbledore, disguised or otherwise. Hadrian would be safe tonight.

“Come along Hadrian.” The Dark Lord swept through the crowd exchanging greetings with those of high station, introducing Hadrian who bowed instinctually.

“Ah, Tom, I’m glad to finally get to meet your son,” the Minister of Magic proclaimed. “Hadrian isn’t it? Your father talks a lot about you my boy. All good things, all good things.”

Hadrian bent at the waist before returning the greeting. “A pleasure to meet you Minister. May the Goddess Sunna smile upon you and your family this coming year.”

The Minister of Magic looked taken aback. “I see you are brought up in the old ways, young Hadrian. It is good to see they are not dying out.”

“Indeed,” intoned the Dark Lord. “We mustn’t have the old ways die just because so many muggleborns are bringing in traditions of their own. We cannot forget our heritage, where our power comes from.”

“Quite right. Quite right. Well, it was good to meet you Hadrian. The other children are over there if you wish to mingle with those of your own age. I wish to have a word with your father.”

“Of course, Minister. Farwell father.” Once again, he bowed and made his way over to the corner of the room by a table of beautiful food where other children were gathered, the teens ignoring the preteens ignoring those his own age. There were eight that looked pre-Hogwarts, five boys and four girls.

Being careful to stay out of the way of the gliding dancers, Hadrian listened for what they were talking about as he approached.

“I can’t wait to get to Hogwarts. Hopefully the old coot will be out of there by then,” the blond boy said.

“Draco, don’t say that in public,” admonished a taller blond girl with softer features. “Anyone could overhear.”

So, Mr. Malfoy’s son was very vocal about politics. Gryffindorish brashness he should be ashamed of. No true Slytherin would out right say what they want in public. He held back for a little longer, feigning to think over some of the different punches.

“Lay off him Daphne, you know he’s right.” The dark haired girl shot back, linking her arm through Draco’s.

Two of the other boys who were very thick and stocky grunted in agreement. The others stayed silent, seemingly not wanting to take a side and upset the son of the host. They were only guests after all. Better to stay silent.

Hadrian slowly swept up to the group and gave a bow. “Good evening. The Minister is speaking to my father, so I though I should come get to know my peers,” he said.

Draco and the others straightened at the name drop like he knew they would.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. I’m Draco Malfoy.” The blond boy stuck his hand out. Hadrian took it and shook, feeling for any signs of nervousness the boy might be radiating, but there was nothing but too much pride and confidence.

“I’m Hadrian Riddle.” Hadrian spoke.

Draco’s smile fell a little. “I don’t recognize that name. Are you a pure blood?”

Hadrian’s stomach fell. “Um, no. My father is a half blood.”

“And your mother?” asked the dark haired girl at Draco’s side.

“A muggleborn from America. She died when I was very young. I don’t remember her.”

She scoffed. “Well. That may have been for the best. Those raised by muggles don’t understand proper magic.”

Hadrian felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up in anger but he just compartmentalized his Occlumency shields to keep it at bay. Even though his made up American mother was not real, they had just insulted him to his face. “Father has made sure I was learned in the old ways. As such, would you like to join me in this dance?” he asked the large black haired girl in the back of the group.

“Me?” she asked, taken aback.

“Yes.” He held out his hand and she nervously took it. He led her to the edge of the dance floor. “What is your name?”

“Millicent Bulstrode.” She put her arms around him but seemed to have a hard time keeping her footing.

Gingerly he led her though a simple waltz. “How are you doing Millicent? Enjoying the party?”

“Um, it’s alright I guess. I get to see my friends.”

“Don’t like the crowds?”

“Not really. And I’ve never really danced before.” She tripped on her own foot but he caught her.

“Did you get tutored in something else?” he prodded.

“No, I get to read a lot though. And learn to cook from my mother.” She seemed proud of her cooking prowess.

“No house elves?”

“Well, we do have one but mom is a half blood so she likes to cook for fun. She’s teaching me how to bake pastries.”

“Are your parents here?” he asked.

“Yeah. My dad is Lord Bulsrode. My mom used to work at the Ministry before they had me.”

“That sound’s amazing. My father was asking me where I would like to go for my ninth birthday next year. Have you been anywhere out of the country?”

“No. Dad is a homebody. He doesn’t like to travel. Sorry!” She had stepped on his foot again.

The waltz came to a close and Hadrian led Millicent off the dance floor and back to the group of her friends. They both joined in the polite small talk through the next dance before Hadrian asked the next girl to join him.

“Ms. Davis, would you like to accompany me with this dance?” She was the second quietist of the girls so he should definitely take the time to get to know her.

“Of course, Mr. Riddle,” she said with an bit of an Irish accent. Smiling, she glided over to him, much steadier on her feet than Millicent was.

This time Hadrian had fun doing a more intricate waltz. Tracy was gorgeous and light on her toes. He still had a job to do though.

“You dance very well,” he complimented.

“My mother is pureblood so she made sure to teach me the proper steps.”

“I see. Are you from Ireland?”

“The accent is a bit of a give away isn’t it?” she laughed.

“A bit. But it must be nice to get to travel all the way to England for the gala.”

“It’s alright. I like traveling to France better though. We spend our summers there to help me be more sophisticated, apparently.” She gave a wry smile.

“Well it seems to be working,” Hadrian laughed. “Are you going this summer too?”

“I don’t know. It’s getting a bit dangerous to travel, so we may just stay in Ireland for a while. I’ll miss France though.”

“Makes sense. Thank you for the dance, you were a wonderful partner.” He bowed and she curtsied.

Once they rejoined the others Pansy dragged Draco off for a dance and Blaise took Daphne for a turn. Conversation with the offspring of Crabbe and Goyle did not reveal much other than that they had little knowledge of politics other that Draco was always right. Good to know.

“So Theodore,” Hadrian began.

“Just Theo.” He corrected. “Only my mother calls me Theodore when she’s angry.”

“I see. What Hogwarts house do want to be sorted into?” Hadrian decided to start out easy.

Theo looked at him with a haughty air. “Slytherin of course! Any pureblood worth their salt goes there. Blood traitors go to places like Gryffindor. Those who live with their heads in their books to escape reality go to Ravenclaw. I would rather die than be a Hufflepuff. No backbone or ability to see the bigger picture.”

“I understand. Weren’t your parents in Slytherin too?” Hadrian prodded. Father had to him that Knot senior was a Death Eater, but was seemingly performing his tasks with less luster than usual.

“Father was a Slytherin prefect in school and mother was on the Slytherin Quidditch team, chaser. They brought pureblood honor to their house with their grades and performances. I will perform just as well, if not better.”

“Are your parents here?” Hadrian prodded. 

Theo looked around the dancing couples and pointed out a pair with the same air of pride as the Malfoys in resplendent robes. “That’s them there.”

“They dance very well.” Hadrian complimented after studying them for a moment. Knot was not in the inner circle of Death Eaters who knew about him being Voldemort’s son. It was good to put more faces to names.

“Of course!” Theo looked at Hadrian incredulously. “Do you want me to show you how well a pureblood can dance?”

Slightly taken aback, but willing all the same, Hadrian took Theo’s proffered hand and stepped onto the dance floor once more, this time to be lead. Theo was an amazing dancer. Harry was twirled and dipped and spun by the taller boy. He was not as fast or intense as a vampire, Hadrian decided to play down his stamina. He acted as though he barely had breath to get out the next question.

"Do you have... any homes out of the country?" 

“We have a small estate in Greece, though I haven’t been there in years. Don’t really remember it much. Most purebloods have many estates, how about your family?” Theo pressed.

“We have a manor house in the country, but that’s all I know about.” Hadrian supplied while pretending to be breathless, making sure to not give away too much while still seeming open. “We have house elves that help out, do you?”

“We have two of them. The best trained ones in Britain.” Theo boasted. “One for each estate.”

After the dance Hadrian felt his father’s magic entwine around him, checking on his occlumency shields. It felt comforting how it washed over his own magic. He was not alone.

The night wore on as he got to know Blaise Zabini and his tales of his step-fathers. He was up to three so far. All had met mysterious demises leaving Blaise and his mother more money and estates with each death. They had homes in England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, France and Italy.

By the time the yule log was burning low the dance floor cleared and a spectacular light show was presented by Narcissa Malfoy. Her charm work was spectacular and all applauded after the finale. Afterwards, parents started to collect their children and leave.

“Hadrian, it is time.” His father had come for him.

“Good bye Draco. It was nice to meet you. May the Goddess Sunna smile upon you and your family this coming year.” Hadrian bowed to the host’s son and turned to follow his father, They put on their cloaks and apparated away.


	5. A Wand

“Hadrian, it is time I bestow your final birthday gift to you.”

Hadrian looked up from his studies on parselmagic, books from the Slytherin vaults that had been brought up for him.

“Another one? Thank you father.” A tempered smile graced his face. At eight he was still excited about gifts but knew they would be practical, and sometimes hard to bear. Like the time he was gifted the knowledge of what the Cruciatus curse felt like. He had learned quickly how to cut off his mind from his body to endure the pain and not scream.

“It is time you gain your first wand.” The Dark Lord was smiling at his son.

Hadrian stiffened slightly. “Aren’t I supposed to be eleven? Where will we get one?”

“I have my connections.” The smile turned slightly feral. “Follow me.”

Together they left headquarters in disguise and apparated to a dark alleyway Hadrian had never seen before. The glamor on Hadrian felt stronger than usual, so he was sure no one would recognize him, even if they had heard of him before.

The bell clanged ominously as they entered a shop with wands visible through its murky window. There was grime everywhere, as if a house elf had never visited the establishment it it’s entire run.

A grubby man slinked from behind the counter. The Dark Lord stretched his magic towards the man who stiffened in recognition and bowed.

“What can I do for you my Lord?” he asked.

“This boy needs a wand off the record with no trace and a concealment holster for the forearm. The best.” The Dark Lord stated.

“Of course. Let me bring out the samples. It will have to be custom if it’s off the record.” The lanky man rushed back behind the counter and pulled out samples of woods and cores. “Come young master, touch each of these planks and see if any react.”

Hadrian complied and stepped up to the tall counter. His father conjured a stepping stool for him to be able to see things properly and reach them.

Applewood seemed dull, mahogany too hard, ebony too cold. Yew felt warm in his hand.

“This one,” Hadrian pointed.

The shop owner nodded and put the planks away, bringing out vials of substances. Some looked like hairs, others scales or feathers, some were even liquid.

One by one they passed through Hadrian’s hands feeling cold and unwilling. Unicorn hair was warm but not right. Once his fingers grazed over a vial of a clear liquid his fingers went numb. He shook them to regain feeling and continued down the line. The last one, of deep red glowed as his hand touched it.

“Blood of a failed chimera, sirs. Very interesting. It will need something to be mixed with to make it malleable into a core.” He gave Hadrian an appraising look then turned to the Dark Lord. “Do you want this want to only work for him and his bloodline?”

“You always think of the best solutions. Do it.”

The shop keeper came back around and grabbed Hadrian by the elbow, steering him into the back room.

Startled, but trusting his father knew what was for the best, he followed willingly.

“Sit on that stool and turn around,” he commanded, digging through his tools looking for something in particular.

Hadrian did as he was told, taking in the musty surroundings. There were lots of pieces of animals hanging from the ceiling, probably to be used for parts as cores.

“Take off your cloak and shirt.” The voice was rough and preoccupied, he was not cleaning whatever tool he had found.

Alarm started to ring in his ears. “What?”

“Take them off, you can put them back on once harvesting is done.”

Slowly, Hadrian slid out of his cloak and undid the many buttons on his grey shirt.

“Stay still,” the wandmaker commanded.

Hadrian did so and felt something wet being drawn in patterns along his spine. It took a few minutes as the patterns were small and intricate. A clink of a brush being put down sounded as a scrape of metal caught his attention. “What are you—”

A hand clamped down around Hadrian’s mouth as a knife carved down his spine, from the base of his neck to mid back. He screamed. The knife came down again on the other side of his spine and dragged down just as far. The pain was different than the cruciatus, more pinpointed.

“Hush, hush. You are almost done,” crooned the wandmaker. “I just have to remove the wedge now.”

Agony shot up Hadrian’s back as he felt parts of his spine shift and lift away, leaving marrow exposed. It must be for the greater good, he thought. Father only wants what’s best for the world. It will be worth it in the end. “Trust, trust, trust…” he kept repeating lowly under his breath as he rode out the torment.

“This will make a fine addition to your wand core,” the wandmaker murmured, looking over the bloody shard that had been Hadrian’s back. “If only I had more specimens like this to work with more often.”

He left Hadrian in the back and went back to the main part of the shop, talking lowly with the Dark Lord.

Tears streaked down his cheeks, but Hadrian was in too much pain to remove the evidence of weakness. He never wanted to feel this type of pain again unless his father commanded it.

“Oh, Hadrian,” muttered his father who had swept into room. Hadrian felt the familiar magic of the man he loved knitting his skin back together, but not the bones. “You will redress so we can go fix you up.”

Hadrian lifted his arms to retrieve his shirt but the actions pulled at his ribs, causing his spine to twitch and shoot pain.

“Do not make me wait for you.”

Desperation flowed through Hadrian. His teeth bit through his bottom lip as he slid into his shirt, reaching behind himself to reach the second sleeve.

“This pain is nothing compared to what you will face in your future. You need to learn how to move through it, use it to fuel your darker magics.” Voldemort placed the cloak on his son’s shoulders as small fingers were still working on the shirt buttons. The extra weight of the cloak directly over the wound caused Hadrian’s knees to buckle. “We will go get you some skelegrow to fix this, but you are in no state to travel with your spine thin enough to snap in apparition. If you were on a mission for me, what would you do?”

Taking quick shallow breaths, Hadrian tried to clear his mind with occlumency despite the agony. “I would… I would conjure a snake to find a hiding place for me and go into a healing sleep then until able to move while the snake keeps a look out.”

“Very good. You may be ready to shadow on missions soon.”

A smile graced the young boy’s features. “Really father?”

“You have been practicing your spellwork with the practice wand and parslemagic for years. Using a wand of your own blood and bone should make using it as easy as breathing air. It will truly be an extension of you. I expect great thing from you.”

The weight of those expectations settled heavily on Hadrian’s shoulders. The boy could feel them already, even before being given his first mission.

“There is an apothecary two doors down we may get already brewed skelegrow. I know the owner. We will then stay at an inn for the night while you recover.”

His heart sped up. It was going to be his first night ever away from headquarters. Excitement began to flood through him despite the agony waiting to flare as soon as be moved anything.

Every step was excruciating, but he dutifully followed down the street, into a shop that smelled truly horrific, and then to an inn, being careful not to bump into anything or anyone along the way.

“Here we are, room 27,” his father crooned as they reached the end of a long corridor.

Hadrian was ushered in with a hand on his back causing him to arch away in pain but keep moving forward.

Voldemort transfigured a glass and poured some of the skelegrow into it, handing it to a cautious Hadrian.

“I’d down it in one go if I were you,” his father cautioned.

Hadrian did so. The burning went down his entire esophagus but he kept it down through sheer willpower.

“Lie on your stomach Hadrian. I will keep watch.” The voice was soothing and Hadrian felt himself sinking onto the bed without a second thought.

***

The wand was ready a week later after it had cured under a full moon. It was ten inches, white with the handle carved into a spinal chord. The moment Hadrian picked it up warmth spread through him and his right arm felt complete.

“Try your first spell Hadrian,” commanded the Dark Lord.

Hadrian thought hard about which one he would like to try first. He aimed his wand at the shop keeper that had carved into him a week ago and whispered, “Expelliarmus.”

All the wands not anchored down went flying around the shop, but the one at the shopkeeper’s side soared directly into Hadrian’s outstretched hand. He grinned.

Voldemort kept a neutral expression. “Thank you for not doing anything harmful to my useful servant, but why a light spell?”

Hadrian froze and thought, then pointed his wand as the man once more, thinking of the agony he had put him through. Bellatrix’s training rang through his head. “Ferveret Sanguis.”

The man dropped to the floor, writhing an rolling in agony, smoke emitting from his eyes, ears and nose. Some even from under his fingernails.

A vicious grin tore across Voldemort’s face. “Blood boiling. Very interesting choice. Finite Incantatem.”

The shop keeper was unconscious but twitching. Voldemort glided to him and left a small pile of galleons on his chest in payment for the wand.

Horrified by the effects his spell had had on the man, Hadrian looked to his father.

“Very good Hadrian. I look forward to dueling you after you have trained more.”

His father was proud of him and what he had done. The pain he had caused. It was a good thing he had accomplished. The man had deserved it for causing him such great pain. But his father had let him…

Arms swallowed him in an embrace as they apparated. 


	6. Fenrir Greyback and The Hag

Six months after Hadrian had received his wand, he was an expert duller. While his shorter legs did not let him travel too far too fast, his impeccable footwork and dodging skills made Vesper glow with pride at his pupil.

The vampire had an idea of what Hadrian was being trained for. While it hurt his heart, he knew he had to put his all into the exercises if he wanted to keep the boy alive for as long as possible. It was obvious the boy’s father, the Dark Lord only saw him as a weapon. A weapon that was now to be taught tracking by the detestable Fenrir Greyback.

Just as the though crossed his mind the doors opened on Hadrian’s training room and in strode the werewolf.

“Fenrir,” Vesper intoned, shielding Hadrian from the man’s view.

“Move it Vesper, it’s my turn to train the brat.”

A spell shot from behind Vesper to hit the werewolf straight in the face causing him to howl in pain.

“I’m not a brat. And Vesper deserves more respect.” The cool voice of Hadrian had little emotion. He was becoming an expert at locking it away and presenting a cold façade that could not be fazed.

The werewolf shook off his shock and eyed the boy. “You have guts I’ll give you that. The Dark Lord wants me to teach you how to track. While you will never be as good as me without being turned, he has forbidden it for some reason.” A smile curled his feral lips. “We will start by tracking Death Eaters around headquarters without being caught then escalate from there.”

“That sounds good, Mr. Greyback. I will pay attention and learn what you have to teach.” The green eyes with red around the pupil looked into the yellow eyes of Fenrir, weighing the chances of the man turning on him mid lesson. His father trusted him, but that may be another lesson in disguise. “Lead the way.”

***

When Hadrian turned nine, his father decided to bestow more gifts.

“Come child, tell me of your stealth and tracking training with Fenrir.” Lord Voldemort pulled his son onto his lap, stroking his dark, wavy hair.

Hadrian gulped. “Well, I can’t smell as well as him to be able to differentiate people or tell if there is blood present, but everyone’s magics feel different so I’m coping. He sees better than me at night, but I have been able to best him when night dueling when he decides to jump me.”

“When you are a powerful wizard you learn to constrain your magic and mask it so it cannot be detected by others when not in use. Dumbledore can surely do it as can I, but a few of members of this Order of the Phoenix he has set up may be able to do so as well.” He traced a long finger down Hadrian’s face and jaw. “I cannot lose you on missions if they are able to do so and you notice too late. Tonight, you will be given a gift. It is a ritual I did not do until in my twenties. It will surely aid you and give you an edge.”

“What is it father?” Hadrian was curious. If his father had done it to himself it must be worthwhile.

“It is a ritual to enhance your five senses.”

“So I will be able to smell out people like Mr. Greyback?” Hadrian was stunned.

“Yes. It is dangerous to do so while so young, but I need you to start shadowing Death Eater missions this year to see how people fight in real situations. You are to help with cleanups and make sure no one gets away. Is that understood?”

“Yes father. When is the ritual? When do I get to start?” His heart was pounding in excitement to make his father happy and dread at what he would see on these missions. Bellatrix was scary enough while under supervision.

“The ritual involves the blood of a werewolf, which Fenrir procured for me. The wolf was not turned at the time of taking so it will not turn you. You trust me don’t you Hadrian.”

It was said like a statement but Hadrian nodded. “With my life.”

“Good,” he smiled like he had plans Hadrian did not know about yet that would probably be painful. “Follow me.”

Hadrian slid off his father’s lap and followed him into an antechamber. The room was small but with vaulted ceilings and no windows. A man was waiting in there for them.

“Ah Severus, how good of you to wait for us,” intoned the Dark Lord.

“Of course, my lord.” He stood at the back of the room wearing black robes a little too big for him, like the thin man had lost a little weight. Maybe from stress. “I am ready to begin at any time.”

“Lie down in the center of the circle Hadrian, we will do the rest.” The Dark Lord glided towards his spy.

Following orders as quickly as possible, the birthday boy lied down in the center of a painted circle with ancient runes inscribed along the edges. Snape walked around the circle, anointing the four compass points in the werewolf blood before standing at the south while Voldemort stood north. Both extracted their wands and began to say something long and complicated.

Hadrian blacked out before they were done.

The first thing that Hadrian noticed was that it smelled like bacon and porridge. Next, his sheets were silken, but even more so than usual. There was someone singing to him quietly.

“I myrkre båren

Or myrkre født

Av morgonraude bylgjer

Stig soli sigrande upp

Kvar ein dag i ringen”

Hadrian opened his eyes and took in the room with all its details. There was dust in the motes of light streaming from the window by his bed. He was in his own bedroom. Vesper was in a chair by the door singing a lullaby in a language he had not yet taught Hadrian. On a table by the far wall was a platter of food. It looked cold, like it had been there for a while, but he could smell it all the same.

“Do you usually sing over me Vesper?” he asked, sitting up, feeling the sheets shift as a weight was pressed into them. Vesper had used his super speed to come to his side.

“My child. Are you alright?” His black eyes searched Hadrian’s features for pain.

“I think so. How long was I out?”

“Three days. The blood entered you and you went into convulsions. Severus had to resuscitate you. Twice.”

Hadrian paled. “But I’m fine now?”

“It would seem so. What do I smell like to you?” Vesper asked.

Taking a deep breath, Hadrian separated the scent of Vesper from the rest of the room. “Old blood, snow, and clean robes.”

“Interesting. Your own smell has changed, little one. Where you were once sweet and fruity, there is now a tinge of spice undertone. A hint of non-human. I hint of the wolf.”

Tom Riddle swept into the room. “Good, you have recovered. You are to re-convene training with Greyback tonight. I have a mission for you in a month.”

Vesper growled low but subtle. Hadrian covered for his caring teacher. “Yes father. Of course.”

“Is there a problem Vesper?” The red eyes of the regal man pierced the vampires.

“No, my Lord.” He bowed his head in resignation. He could not come between the two members of the small family.

***

The month passed quickly. Fenrir barking orders at Hadrian before they moved in relative silence throughout the compound. Hadrian was getting used to his enhanced senses now, able to differentiate between humans and different dark creatures. Even Nagini had a scent to her, though it was subtle due to the many enchantments of protection placed upon her.

While scent was a major help, Hadrian still practiced recognizing people’s magical signatures and feeling the differences between humans and others.

They eventually graduated to stalking in Diagon Alley, the unsuspecting witches and wizards being followed through their shopping. Fenrir used glamours to change his appearance from the wanted posters while Hadrian utilized a notice-me-not charm Lucius had taught him. It would not work on the stronger humans or any creatures, but Hadrian wanted to test its limits.

“What witch there,” pointed Fenrir. The witch in question was plump with red hair. She had a basket in her arms filled with what looked like school supplies. There were a few red headed children with her as well. Three of them.

“Come along Percy. We need to get you some new socks while Bill gets his robes.” She hurried up the street to Gladrags, second hand shop.

Hadrian kept a leisurely pace a few shops behind them, and ducked into an alley when the redheads entered the store. He waited five minutes, keeping an eye on the entrance then snuck inside with a dark-haired family, tagging along like a third son.

Once out of eyesight of the shop manager in case they had seen him, he walked to the clearance section and found his target. She was talking to the oldest boy and holding up robes to his frame one at a time.

“We don’t need to them too big anymore, do we Bill,” she said as she pulled the least worn looking set from the rack that were still his size. “Unless you grow sideways.”

“Mum!” Bill looked scandalized. “Thanks, but this is the last pair you need to get me now that I’ve got a job.”

“Well. You can’t be looking too shabby on your first day of work. Charlie, have you found any pants that will fit yet?” She turned to her second son.

“Yes mum, your short son has found fitting pants.”

“Oh good. Percy? Have you picked out your socks yet?”

Hadrian had half a mind to tune out their babble but still kept an ear out while staying out of everyone’s way and sinking into shadows. The witch’s magic was passable, in the mid range of power he had felt. The boy Bill’s was a bit stronger but still nothing compared to the Dark Lord. His could be overwhelming like a tidal wave when unrestrained. Someday, Hadrian hoped he could be anywhere near that powerful.

At length, they finally exited the shop and went into an apothecary, Flourish and Blotts, and a few others tiny stores. Hadrian sniffed the air in the last store, a tea shop the witch was picking up an order from. Her name was apparently Mrs. Weasley and she had seven children in total. Hadrian balked at the news, but a peculiar scent caught his interest more than the red-headed family.

He followed it, keeping to the shadows and silencing his feet. It led down an alley that was darker and had less credible storefronts. Having half a mind to go back to his target, he turned when a hood was shoved over his head and he was caught.

There was no way Fenrir would help him, the cunning creature. He had threatened to leave him for dead if he was ever caught.

All of Hadrian’s training came to the forefront of his mind. He held his elbows wide so it was harder to grasp around his torso, lifted his arms and squatted down out of their hold, rolling away. The hood was damp with some sort of liquid that made his head woozy.

As he scrambled to get it off his head, he felt a pair of vice-like hands grab around his waist and toss him against a wall. Hadrian braced for impact as well as he could, but his clouded head still collided onto the brickwork with a crack.

The world went black.

***

The smell of a hot oven was the first thing Hadrian noticed when coming to. He was on a piece of wood, and the strange scent that he had followed was now surrounding him. Hadrian was in its home.

The sound of metal being sharpened caught his attention and he opened his eyes. He was on a wooden table and a hag was honing a knife. The fire in the hearth was blazing, causing Hadrian to sweat in his robes.

His wand holster was still concealed on his forearm up his sleeve. She must not have expected an underage wizard to be armed.

Hadrian rolled off the table and drew his wand, pointing it at the warty witch. “Where am I?”

The hag stopped admiring her knife and swiveled her eyes to take in the sight of the tasty boy brandishing a wand at her. “Steal that off your parents did you?”

“Where am I?” he said again, his young voice lowering.

“Oh deary, you are at my humble abode. In the lochs of Scotland. No one will hear you scream.”

Hadrian’s stomach fell. He was alone in another country, with no way to contact his father.

“How did we get here so fast? Hags only have rudimentary dark magic so we did not apparate. Did you use a portkey?”

“Aren’t you a clever little wizard. Too bad you won’t have time to find it!” She hopped the table and rushed Hadrian who noticed she only had four toes on each foot before following instinct to dodge the knife and sweep at her feet.

She jumped his leg and screamed as she came down, knife angled at Hadrian’s throat.

The scream caught Hadrian off guard. The only one of his teachers who ever screamed was Bellatrix, but hers were different.

Hadrian sent an Impedimeta at her, the wall of force behind the spell stopping her and bowling her over backwards on the floor. “Expelliarmus!” The knife flew from the prone hag’s hand and into Hadrian’s.

What should he do now? Kill her so she can’t get back up and kill him? Tie her up? Bellatrix would torture her for her audacity. Find the portkey and leave her?

“Leave me be!” she cried while scrambling back to the kitchen countertop.

Hadrian felt some pity crawl up him. She was only trying to eat. Surely she would leave him alone now that she knew she was bested.

“Accio portkey.” A small bag of bone fragments came zooming into his outstretched palm. As he clamped his hand around the bag and felt a jerk behind his navel the hag used her own magic to call her familiar knife back to her, slicing through Hadrian’s left hand deeply. She also threw another, smaller knife at him, imbedding into his stomach as he disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Vesper is singing is Ni Mødre Av Sol by Einar Selvik & Ivar Bjørnson.


	7. Recovery

_Pop._ Hadrian appeared in a stone cobbled alley, it seemed to be the one he had been kidnapped from. His left hand was bleeding profusely and a small knife was in his gut. Should he pull it out? It was burning his insides, more than being sliced in weapons training ever had. Was there something on the blade?

The nine-year-old braced himself against the brickwork and tried to clear his head, but it was still a bit disoriented from whatever potion had been on the bag the hag had placed over his head. He should find Fenrir.

As he took a step, his brain felt like it flipped over. The burning was spreading from his wounded torso. He gritted his teeth and took out the small knife, inspecting his blood and a yellow lacquer on the blade. Shoving it in his pocket, he tried to take a step again but fell to his knees.

Was his notice-me-not charm still functioning on the humans surrounding him? Was it safe to ask just anyone for help? He should be better than this! He should have taken the hag out in the first place so she could not get him back. Put her down before she became a problem again. He would learn his lesson. No more mercy for enemies. Opponents who really meant him harm were to be taken care of so as not to be given a second opportunity.

A humanoid man with black hair and skin so pale he must have been a vampire loomed over him. His teeth elongated and Hadrian screamed before the creature clasped a rough hand over his mouth and apparated them.

The nosferatu crammed something down his throat. It was vile and tore his esophagus on the way down. There was a wall of green frames. A second creature joined the first. It looked like a Lethifold puppeteering a man.

“Stay away!” Hadrian yelled, brandishing his wand.

“His pupils are very dilated right now, I don’t think—”

“Serpensortia!” Hadrian yelled, then hissed at the snake to constrict and bite the Lethifold.

“Hadrian! Stop!” the nosferatu yelled at him. How did he know his name? “It’s—”

“Confringo!” An orange blast fired from Hadrian’s wand, catching the unknown vampire off his feet sending him flying.

The Lethifold man was swearing calming but fired off a spell between diatribes. “Expelliarmus!”

Hadrian’s wand went flying and his flagging strength drained from his body, hitting the floor.

***

_Nagini was wrapped around Hadrian’s throat, hissing in his ear. “You have disappointed my master, hatchling. You have failed him.” The constriction around his windpipe was crushing, hard to breath._

_“I didn’t mean to Nagini! I’ll do better next time! I’ll master the darkest spells Bellatrix knows! I won’t hesitate to use them!” The words were being choked out of him, his skin was burning. Had someone use fiendfyre? The flames were twisting their way up his frame from his stomach, twisting into poisonous creatures clawing into his flesh._

_“You are a useless student Hadrian,” Vesper said in his ear. “I never cared for you and now that you are part werewolf, I never will.”_

_Hadrian felt tears in his eyes. His favorite mentor was just that, only a mentor. Never really cared for him even though he had fawned over him whenever Hadrian had been sick. It was all just a ploy to get him to train harder, faster, be more deadly. Never a second father, one who actually cared about him when he was hurt. Would say he loved him. Would Hadrian ever hear those words from anyone?_

_Nagini slithered off his throat and the whispers became farther and farther away._

***

The room must be dark, because he could not see light through his eyelids. Was he captured by the enemy? Had the Order found him? Weren’t there those two creatures?

“He should be waking up any second Regulus.”

“Thank you, Severus. I was unsure how to treat the poison. The bezoar was not as effective as I was hoping for.”

Hadrian relaxed. He was amongst those sworn to protect him.

Blinking his eyes open, Hadrian eased up onto his elbows only to veto that movement quickly. His muscles all burned.

“Hadrian. Please lay still.”

Looking up into the dark eyes of Regulus Black, he decided it was time for answers. “What was on the blade the hag got me with?”

The voice of Severus Snape answered from the other side of the bed Hadrian was on. “I don’t know about a hag, but the knife in your pocket was lacquered with the sap of giant hogweed. Mixed into the sap was some unholy hybrid plant of deadly night shade and belladonna. Do you remember anything from the past day?”

“Um, I was fighting off a nosferatu and a lethifold. Then it was just Nagini and fire. But I don’t think that was real,” Hadrian replied. He did not mention Vesper. That was still too painful.

“Must have been hallucinations. Nagini was still at the Dark Lord’s side when I fire called him after Severus came through. It was just the two of us and your mind was on fire.” The Black heir was more pale than usual now that Hadrian was in a better head space to take in his surroundings.

Severus Snape spoke up. “You had a high fever and inflammation of the lungs. Your abdomen was covered in blisters that would have scarred if not treated immediately. There was also blood loss and severed tendons in your left hand. With the components of the poison and your reaction to us you were definitely hallucinating.”

“I see.” Hadrian looked down at his stomach. It was bandaged. His left hand was also bandaged. His navy blue robes had been cut open down the front, ruined. “Why didn’t you just vanish the robes?” he asked curiously.

“We did not know what was ailing you. It could have been aggravated by magic so it was best to forgo any unnecessary spells,” Snape said. “Don’t worry. I will have you mended by the time of your first mission in five days.”

Hadrian swallowed. “Five days? With the Death Eaters?”

Snape nodded. “Yes. I will be leading the raid, so you will be under my supervision. I will make sure no harm will come to you if you stick to the plan.”

“Um, thank you. Do you usually lead raids?” He had heard Bellatrix gloating about her raids for years, but did not hear of those lead by Snape very often.

“No.”

There was more to it then that, but Snape was not expounding. Hadrian was tempted to used legilimency on Snape but had heard of the legendary barriers surround the spy’s brain. Best not to risk it.

***

Fenrir had been heavily tortured by his father for allowing Hadrian to be abducted and hurt, which made Hadrian feel a little bad for the werewolf. It hadn’t been his fault Hadrian had been distracted and gone off track, but he hadn’t reported him missing either until Hadrian had already made it back.

The days passed by sluggishly and fast at the same time. Every day the poisons leeched from his system with antidotes from Snape, Hadrian’s muscles regaining strength. His dreams were still strange for a few days, but by the time it was the night before his first mission Hadrian could not sleep at all.

He sat at his window watching the sun rise over the distant hills, burning off the fog and dew on the grass. Of course there was no real window in his room, which was buried deep in the complex, but the enchantment even gave off the warmth of the rising rays. They soaked into his chilled bones, thawing his clenched muscles.

While he was certain he was better than the average wizard even at just nine years old, he still had a lot to learn. What was the mission going to be? Would he have to hurt someone who did not want to hurt him back? But it was what his father wanted him to do, so it should be for the best. Right? Lord Voldemort was the panicle of the wizarding world. He was the strongest, most influential leader in Wizarding Britain, possibly even the whole world. Surely he knew what was best.

He had taken Hadrian in and given him a home and a purpose. He would not disappoint his father. Especially tonight.


	8. First Mission

The sun was setting, the clouds set ablaze with the promise of blood. The chill in the air stole through Hadrian’s new black cloak complete with a silver mask. He would look like one of the inner circle tonight, albeit a very short one. This was the beginning of a new chapter in his life. He would be useful to his father. Repay him for all the tutoring he had provided by utilizing his skills and bringing down enemies that stood in the way of the new way of life.

“Master Hadrian, Severus Snape wishes to speak to you,” Trixy said while setting out a cup of tea for him.

“Alright. Let him in.” Was he to get special orders for the mission tonight? Hadrian tried to keep his hope and nerves down.

The large dark door to Hadrian’s private chambers opened without a sound. Severus Snape strode in but seemed uncomfortable being there. “Hadrian,” he began, but then his words seem to stall as he looked him in the eyes. He blinked and regained his composure. “Hadrian. Tonight you will be part of the vanguard.”

Hadrian’s blood turned to ice. He was to be in the front. In the path of the spells of adults. This was not what he had been told where he was going to be. “I thought—”

“This is on orders of your father. The Dark Lord wishes to prove you in battle tonight. I have brought a gift for you from him as he is detained with the minister for an alibi.” He reached into his robes and pulled out a bound parcel and handed it over to Hadrian.

“Um, thanks.” Hadrian’s heart was in his throat. He could not fail his father, no matter what. What last minute gift would help? Pulling the twine, the tissue paper fell away revealing a vest of dragon hide, as dark as ink. The scales were each the size of his thumb, plated over each other in an impenetrable pattern.

Snape spoke up. “Most spells will bounce off. It cannot be shrunk or enlarged. You can wear it either over or under your robes. Do you need help putting it on? It fastens in the back.”

Hadrian thought for a second. “Yes please. I think I’ll wear it under the robes, more of an element of surprise if spells don’t work as expected.”

“A very wise decision. Now, stand up and I’ll help you get it on.” The potion master circled around the boy to slide his arms through it and began doing to clasps in the back and where the panels overlapped to give no space for a spell or dagger to slide through. “I suggest placing a warming charm on your shirt as we will be waiting for the wards to be broken before we can proceed. We may be in hiding for up to an hour.”

“Okay. I will. Thanks for helping me with the armour.”

“Don’t mention it. A keep that dragon hide hidden from Bellatrix, you don’t want her testing out it’s resilience while you are wearing it. Just in case. She gets blood lust fairly quickly on these raids.”

At Hadrian’s node Snape left the chamber, leaving Hadrian to his thoughts for the next hour.

***

Hadrian side along apparated with Lucius to the intended target before a quarter mile wide anti-appiration and anti-portkey wards were put up. A Death Eater began working on the wards, making sure not to trip them while taring them down. It only took them forty minutes, but the warming spell still made the wait more comfortable.

The house was a small cottage in the outskirts of muggle London. The Tonks residence: Andromeda and her muggle husband Edward. He would be no problem to take care of, but Andromeda had been raised a Black. She would be formidable.

The air vibrated then stilled as the wards finally fell. Hadrian could now smell the property that had been sheltered. There were definitely people in the house. Snape raised his wand and lead the vanguard forward at a sprint.

“Serpensortia,” Hadrian whispered on the run. A small adder shot forward to do resonance, slithering its way to the back of the house.

“Bombarda Maxima!” roared Snape through his silver mask. The entire front wall of the house imploded rocketing debris everywhere.

“Homenum Revelio,” called out Lucius. Through the dust and powdered rock, the silhouettes of two individuals glowed.

_Bang!_

“Aggg!” The Death Eater beside Hadrian went down. What kind of spell would make that kind of sound?

“Protego!” called out Regulus.

Clack. _Bang!_

Regulus went down with a shout. It had torn straight through his shield spell into his shoulder.

“Incarcerous!” Ropes flew through the dust to entangle around another Death Eater.

Snape transfigured a low wall and the vanguard took shelter behind it, releasing the bound Death Eater.

“Go out the back-door Andromeda! I’ll keep holding them off!”

Taking advantage of Mr. Tonk’s distraction Hadrian jumped up from his crouch. “Expelliarmus!” A long metal thing went flying out of the muggle’s hand and into Hadrian’s. He vaguely remembered it to be a gun of some sort. He dropped it in disgust.

“Edward! Run!” a woman yelled.

“Avada Kedavra!” yelled Bellatrix, flying into action. The balding man fell to the floor, sightless eyes wide in shock.

“No!” Andromeda screamed. “Bella!” She rolled out the way of a curse and hid behind a larger piece of rubble and a chair before screaming as a snake slid its way past her and towards Hadrian.

“ _There is another person in the kitchen getting ready to come and help its mother_ ,” hissed the adder.

“There’s another person here!” Hadrian called to Snape who nodded in acknowledgement before sealing off the door to the rooms beyond.

“Come now sister, you knew this day was coming!” sang Bellatrix. “Time the family tree was pruned a little don’t you think?”

Peaking her head around the dusty chair, Andromeda took stock of who she was up against now that the dust had settled. There were five in the vanguard, two shot and three healthy. There was no way for her to know how many were outside the house should she or Nymphadora escape.

“Bombarda!” Andromeda cast destroying the transfigured wall leaving them all vulnerable to the witch.

“Sectumsempra,” cast Snape at the same time as Bellatrix yelling “Ferveret Sanguis!”

The chair exploded in lacerations, stuffing flying everywhere as the curse ricocheted off a shield charm, luckily not hitting anyone else. The blood boiling curse shattered the shield but did no physical damage.

He had to do something, thought Hadrian. He needed to be more useful. He was smaller than the others, he could probably sneak around to the side for a better vantage point.

Carefully picking his way through the debris after placing a silencing charm on his feet, Hadrian waded through the chunks of wall before casting a stronger Serpensortia to produce a larger snake. “ _Bite her wand arm, then strange her,_ ” he commended.

“Petrificus Totalus,” he called out. She dodged it while dodging another spell at the same time. The unexpected angle of attack catches Andromeda’s attention enough that a spell from Bellatrix hits her square in the side leaving boils oozing black. Her focus shattered now she notices the snake too late. It bites her right arm, crunching the bones and splintering them with its jaw strength before moving towards her neck.

“Mom!” came a scream from above. Hadrian, distracted, looked up to see Nymphadora had pried up some of the flooring to seen down into the living room. She pointed her wand at Regulus, binding him in chains and shooting a conjunctivitis curse at Bellatrix who swats it away with her wand like a fly.

“Severus, let me finish this.” Bellatrix hissed. “My dear niece needs to see the power of a full blooded Black who does not turn her back on the dark arts.”

“Bombarda!” Hadrian called out at the ceiling, focusing the spell on Nymphadora’s location. The sixteen year old girl fell from newly formed hole but levitated herself before she crashed into the rubble.

“Everyone back, leave this to Bella,” called out Snape.

In disbelief, Hadrian obeyed the order and levitated Regulus out of the house. Behind him he heard the sadistic giggle of “fiendfyre!”

Hadrian’s blood ran cold. He had been told to never do that spell in the compound so he had never had a chance to practice but had heard horror stories of it going out of control. Sprinting the quarter mile with Regulus floating behind him he exited the wards just to be safe. Bellatrix’s appetite for destruction knew no bounds and was being allowed to consume the whole house.

Looking back, there were animals of fire undulating through and among each other with a heat that was baking Hadrian’s face. Griffins, basilisks, chimeras and others all screaming as they devoured the home of the Tonks family.

After three agonizing minutes Bellatrix came striding on out of the charcoal husk of the cottage. Her face was furious. She marched straight up to the Death Eater in charge of setting up the anti-apparation and anti-portkey wards. “Crucio!”

The robed and masked man fell the floor in shrieks of agony. He was very undignified. Sure, Bellatrix’s crucio’s hurt, but no where near as much as his father’s did.

“You did not ward against house elves!” she screeched.

Severus Snape calmly waited for her fury to run its course before questioning. “Who escaped?”

“That brat Nymphadora! She or Andromeda must have connections to the Order because Andromeda shielded her spawn with herself, casting a blood ward and a blasted house elf appeared in time to take the blight with it from the house before the fire could consume more than her sleeve! Dumbledore will know how to save her, that fool.”

“Did you recognize the house elf?” Snape asked.

“No, but it had a Hogwarts crest on it’s toga. It’s obvious who sent it.”

“I see.” Snape turned to the pile of charred rubble. “Morsmordre!” A snake and skull shone green in the sky, twisting and slithering among the clouds. “Back to base!”

The Death Eaters exited the wards then vanished followed lastly by Lucious who dissolved the temporary wards to cover their tracks and rend the ward stone of the house in half so the protections could not be salvaged.

As Lucious grabbed Hadrian’s arm to apparate them back to base, Hadrian saw the silhouettes of wizards and witches arriving. He heard one of the Order gasp at the sight of them. With a quick twist, they were away.


End file.
